And We Play this Game Again
by Ruler of the Fake Empire
Summary: Draco became a doctor, he covered up his tattoo, he bought so many books he barely has a living space. He MOVED on. He hadn't seen Harry Potter in five years and yet, there he was sitting in his office with a proposition. The truth was, maybe he didnt want to move on from Harry Potter. Maybe he never knew he didn't have to. Until now. Drarry.
1. Chapter 1

There were things that Draco Malfoy hated. Black jellybeans, funerals, patients who thought they were dying when they had a cold, days when the sun rose without his permission, waking up, but he hadn't know what he hated most. He did now. Now as he stood scowling in his ruffled white lab coat with his initials sewn into the collar with emerald green thread in the doorway. What really hated was Harry Potter waiting for him him in his office. He had only come back to get a few files, so that he could explain to a patient that, no, he did not need to be hospitalised and his mother had overreacted when he had fainted. He was all for patients coming in when they were worried, but this was the third time this month.

What he had expected was to find his office empty and cluttered as it almost always was, but what he got was Harry Bloody Potter lounging in his chair looking at him with bright green eyes that hadn't aged a day since when they last met. He almost threw a fit then and there, but he restrained himself. In Potter's defence he probably wouldn't of been throwing a fit at him exactly. The hospital was particularly busy today, his hair was falling over in his face, he had even working for twenty five hours straight and all he wanted to do was sleep. There was no way in hell that Draco was just going let Potter take over his precious, precious time. By some miracle of science and nature Draco managed to keep his composure and still express himself with an icy glare.

"Potter" he spat in acknowledgment. Potter regarded him with the same amount of disdain. Bitter rivals to the bitter end it seemed.

"Malfoy" Potter raised his stubbled chin just slightly, as if remembering just how foul their relationship was. They hadn't seen each other for years, but the recognition was instant. Years of being enemies had taught them that.

"Potter, I don't have time for this, so if you don't mind" ran his fingers through his hair and glared all the more fiercely at the man in his chair. He approached the desk and watched Potter tense. Ah yes, water under the bridge. Totally. He snatched a file of his desk, from where he had left it that morning. Just as he was bringing it towards his chest so that he was capable of leaving as quickly as possible he felt a sudden wave of exhaustion shuddered through him, from his chest outward. He gripped the side of his desk, haunting grey eyes pointing forward in something akin to dreamy panic. He could feel his legs shaking and Potter panicking beside him. Potter never was good with anything that had an obvious cause. He was tired nothing more. He could hear Potter's voice asking him questions, his hands hovering over the shoulder's of Draco's white lab coat, though not actually touching him. He figured that potter was just worried he was going to keel over an die in front of him. For a moment he just stood there, regaining his ability to stand on his own two feet. He let out a breath and straightened. His vision blurred for a second and he thought he might faint, but then his world came flooding back. He blinked a few times, staring with conviction at the floor. He shook his head and brought the file to his chest. He glanced vaguely at potter and his incessantly worried eyes behind his round glasses. Draco rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, Potter" Draco turned and walked away. He could tell that Potter was following him out of the office and frankly he wasn't surprised. He was always going to be the good guy. At least he knew that if the world needed saving, someone had it dealt with. That was a comforting thought.

"I didn't say anything" Potter responded, jogging to keep up with him. Thank Merlin Draco still had longer legs. At this point the healer was very temper to call Granger so that she could come take him home. Whatever Harry Bloody Potter was planning he didn't want any part of it.

"I know, but you were thinking it and I would like you to shut up" Draco replied dryly as he made his way towards the room where his patient was stationed. This was the last thing he had to do before he could go home and sleep into the new melenia which was about 9,000 years from now. He was never getting up ever again. Potter didn't respond and he sighed deeply. He was too irritable for this crap.

"What do you want? Speak" he desperately wanted to call Potter a few foul names, but he figured that if he was at least mildly polite he would probably go to sleep quicker. Wait, no. That wasn't what he meant. He meant go away quicker, not sleep. Dammit.

He glanced at Potters face for a second and the still young man looked as though he was going to asks if he was alright again. Thank Merlin he didn't. Thank Merlin.

Potter hesitated, but spoke nonetheless.

"I need you help"

Oh, good lord.

"No" he didn't know what Potter was up to, whether it was auror business or "lets meddle with Malfoy's life because we have nothing better to do" business. He wanted no part of it.

"You don't understand, this is really important"

Draco rolled his eyes, the likelihood that he wanted to understand was very, very thin. Fuck this, he was going home. Screw the little boy and his overprotective mother. He smiled grimly to himself as he saw the girl that was doing work experience who was coming towards him with her smile. He had just had the worst idea, he almost felt bad.

"Dr Malfoy, I finished the job you assigned me to" the girl handed him a clipboard. She been around the hospital for long enough to know him by his first name as she was the daughter of one of the nurses and she had known him since he started working there, but still she insisted on calling him "Dr Malfoy". He smiled at her, grateful for her company and the girl blushed a little and smiled back.

"Thank you, Clara" he said, honestly grateful for her company, as he looked over the clipboard. "Wonderful work, I'm really impressed. Now, I have just one more task for you. There is a little boy in room c4. I need you to tell him that the reason he fainted was heatstroke and tell his mother how to treat it. Then send them off, all the while answering all their questions. I want you to give me a self evaluation the next time we see each other. Do you understand?" He looked intensely at her and she immediately beamed.

"Yes, of course. Are you going home now, because if you are I can give you a ride? You probably shouldn't be driving in your state" she looked kindly at him, but he shook his head.

"No, I'll be fine. Thank you, Clara" the girl nodded and rushed off in a flurry of neat hair and blushes, he sighed deeply as she darted away. He couldn't even be bothered to go back to his office and get his bag, he wondered how he was going to make it home. He shook his head, clearing his mind of the fog. Suddenly he really was tempted to just lie down on the floor and not get up. He was in a hospital, they had stretchers. Still, something told him that would of lead to some other difficulties.

Somehow he managed to start moving his legs from their rooted position. He was going to go home, he was going to make himself a nice cup of tea, he was going to read and then he was going to promptly pass out. He could deal with that.

"Nice on, Draco. Obviously you haven't changed a bit" it didn't take a genius to figure out that that Harry was referring to the fact that he was still manipulating people to get what he wanted. He was right, of course. Draco was still largely to same person the last time they met, only he had a job, a heck load of books and a lot more regrets.

"Go die in a hole, Potter" Draco spat. Tiredly he began to remove his lab coat, feeling like it was just too heavy to keep on his shoulders. God, he was so tired. He folded the coat neatly in his arms as he walked. Potter's green eyes darted to his forearm, where bandages from his wrist to just below his elbow covered the ugly tattoo. He saw Potter frown and point.

"You still have it?" The question was blatant and suspicion. Draco sent the man beside him a steely glance. He mostly kept the tattoo covered, but of course, he couldn't hide it from Potter. He knew.

"You think I would let myself forget that easily?" With that both men stared forward, neither willing to look back on that time in their shared pasts. The times before that, the squabbling and the insistent rivalry, that they could remember. They could remember their hatred and their natural misalignment, but that time, the battle, they couldn't deal with that.

Instead they walked through the hospital in silence. Cold and made of ice as it was.

"She's right you know"

Draco's eyes were half open and his normally long stride was slack. He almost missed Potter's words.

"Huh?" Who was right? He couldn't remember anyone being right.

"The girl, she's right. There no way you're going to be able to make it home on your own. You'll crash" if Draco'd had the energy he would of glared at the man beside him, instead he just stared ahead and hopped to Merlin he didn't bump into anything. "I'll drive you home" he wouldn't put it past Potter to know where he lived, or even to keep tabs on him. Then again it wasn't like he needed to. Draco met up with Granger every Sunday at a bookshop, he also babysat Rose on a regular basis. He even had the odd civilised conversation with Weasley, it wasn't like he was in hiding.

"Do you know what the word dismembered means, Potter?" Draco's voice was low and dangerous, the threat hanging empty in the air.

"Haven't the faintest clue, but it sounds violent. Come on, Malfoy. My car's in the parking lot" hands gripped his shoulder blades as he was pushed down the hall, towards that glowing sign that clearly stated something about cars. Draco let his feet move forward as they wished. He might not of wanted to stay in Potter's presence for any longer than necessary, but he really was fond of his car. Specifically he was fond of it when it wasn't impaled by a tree. He also liked not being dead.

He vaguely recognised that he was being seated in a car and his seatbelt buckled, but he didn't really react to it. He was to busy leaning his head against the window and slipping in and out of consciousness. He wondered hoe badly he needed sleep if he was letting Potter drive him home. He was guessing pretty bad. With eyes only half open he watched as a they came up to his home. He own an apartment about a little book store owned by an old friend. He was immensely fond of it. He had grown up with big things. Big houses, big windows, things that were constantly spacious and bare. But he little apartment was small and cosy and filled with _things_. He smiled giddily up at it.

Hauling his body out of the car he muttered a faint and uncaring "Thanks, Potter" before stumbling out onto the side walk and up to the small door that lead to his apartment. He heard Potter say something in return, but he could for the life of him discern what it was. Instead of dwelling on it he just stood for a moment struggling to get his key to slip inside the keyhole. Finally, by sheer dumb luck, the key turned in the lock and the door swung open. He had to admit, getting up that flight of stairs was the hardest thing he had ever had to do in his life. Every step felt like a mountain to his tired calves. That was it, he was never, ever going to work. He made it three steps from the top of the stairs before he collapsed onto the floor and promptly started to snore.

And to think, he had signed up for this.

Someone was shaking his shoulders and bleating his name like an apology. He didn't take this to be a good sign. To make matters worse his head was pounding like nothing else. He groaned and was tempted to roll over just so that he could breath properly. The someone was still blaring his name and he waved his arm at them in a meek attempt to make them go away. Preferably for a long while. He just wanted to sleep, god dammit!

"G'away" he muttered, eyes no more open than if he was still passed out. He could vaguely retain a few memories of collapsing onto his floor and his current surroundings certainly supported his theory. That meant that the person shaking him was probably Granger, given that she was the only person with a key to his apartment. Sounded like Granger too.

He wondered if he was babysitting today. He didn't remember agreeing to anything. He was quite fond of Rose though. A bright little thing she was. Quiet too, but not without her own opinions. He liked to think that she was quite fond of him too.

His mind was so muddled and he groaned. Almost everything hurt. His limbs ached and his back was being metaphorically stabbed. Merlin, he wanted to die. Something in the back of his mind told him he wanted something. He didn't know what it was for the life of him, but he wanted it really badly. Then something in his mind came out of the fog and he knew exactly what he wanted.

He waved his arm in the vague direction of Hermione, trying to find the floor or at least something stable, because everything was swaying. He felt slightly delirious lying down, so with some dazed conviction he sat up, his hands finding the floor and grey eyes opening, sparkling blearily. Without any surprise at all his saw brown eyes looking at him with worry and apprehension. He rubbed his eyes with a palm and yawned, images of earl grey tea floating mockingly through his mind. He almost, just almost collapsed down again. He couldn't of been asleep for more than a few hours really. He was still on the verge of death. Bugger.

Hermione shook his shoulder and he blinked blearily at her.

"G'morning" he muttered. In truth he had always admired Granger. He thought she was clever and funny and very interesting. Not in a romantic way, not at all. But every now and then he craved an actual intellectual conversation. It was at those moments that he missed Snape the most. Whenever he spoke to Snape all those years ago he would learn things. He missed learning things from people and not books. He felt his eyes clouding over. Oh wonderful, now he was emotional. He rubbed his eyes, sadness clawing like a beast at his heart.

"Draco, are you alright? You were passed out on thefloor" Hermione seemed to think he wasn't yet awake so she once again shook his shoulder again, which left him severely confused about which way was up. According to his watch it was only 10pm, he'd only been asleep for a total of six hours. Not nearly long enough.

"I'm fine. I just missed the bed by a few meters" he grinned at his own joke and stumbled to his feet. His apartment was dim and mostly without light. He yawned again, feeling cold and sleepy and vaguely homicidal. Then again, that was basically how he was all the time. Then he remembered that the desperately needed some tea and he was still dressed in his waistcoat and tie. Merlin, he was uncomfortable. He some how stumbled over to his kitchen, hands flailing for the tea pot.

"Have I mentioned they you were passed out on your floor? That is not normal behaviour, Draco" her voice was very certain, like she was trying to convince him that something was very wrong. "You had a 36 hour shift, that's not right" Draco looked back at her, his blond eyebrows pulling together on his pale skin. For a moment he just stared at her and her determined form, the cogs in his brain turned together. He returned to brewing his tea.

"Potter sent you, didn't he? And if he is the same Potter I know he's probably loitering on the stairs waiting for you to tell him I'm not dead. Aren't you, Potter!" He raised his voice at the ending as he poured himself a cup of tea into he favourite mug, he sighed and decided that he would make Potter and Hermione a cup as well. Good lord, he was nice person. Plus, maybe if he gave them some beverages they would bugger off.

He heard footsteps come from behind him and he struggled to keep his eyes open. Unconsciously he began to loosen his tie. He wanted to wear some of those big sweaters his mother had given them. They were quite nice sweaters, in themselves, but they were meant for a man with a much less slender form. They often sloped down his shoulders and continued on from his finger tips and they were just so comfortable.

"Have a nice nap, Malfoy?" as always the two greeted each other bitterly. All sneers and childishness. Draco scowled at the man. He passed a mug to the woman standing on his carpet, looking anxious and bemused while undoing the buttons of his waistcoat. He set the other mug on the bench in Potter's direction. The man accepted it, with a small glare. Draco glared with venom in return.

"Now, speak what you want, because I would really like to go to sleep" he watched as the woman he mostly regarded as he friend and the man he had both saved and tried to destroy exchanged glances across his living room floor. "Spit it out" he snapped, impatient at the stalling of the two.

"We need a healer" Granger's voice echoed malevolently through the dim light. "And your the best we know" he nodded, in a way that suggested he was going to throw her out if she didn't hurry up.

"We're planning an expedition to the muggle world and we're in need someone with medical expertise, and has the ability to defend himself in a fight. That seems to be you. We have word that a very evil and very theatric witch is hiding out in the muggle world, and we are unable to send out large forces" Harry paused, gathering his words and noting that Malfoy was staring at him intensely. "So we're gathering a small party, including me, Ron, Hermione and, if you agree, you" for a long extended moment Draco simply sipped his tea, grey eyes twinkling and darting. His thoughts clouded by his wishes for sleep. He swallowed thickly.

"Send me the details, and I may consider it"

He could do with a holiday, so sure, other than the obvious reasons, why not?


	2. Chapter 2

"Yes, but why Draco? He's the spawn of the devil and you want to trust him with this?" The large part of the past half hour had been filled with bleats much like this and side glances that would of shut him up years ago when they still had effect. Times had changed. Hermione sighed from where she sat continually sighing from her desk where Harry had incidentally decided to take his lunch break and bitch about Draco.

She glared at him, finally snapping under the pressure of her own desire to defend the man. It was like they had magically reverted back into being there first year selves. It was ridiculous all this bickering.

"The reason we chose Draco" she was referring to herself and Ron, obviously. "Is he is the best at what he does. The risk that one of us could get fatally hurt in the muggle world is too high not to have a healer" her eyes narrowed dangerously at her friend. She had so many better things to do than prove Draco worthy of their presence. Harry muttered something into his coffee and she noticed that Harry, of all people, had not yet mentioned the reasons for his distrust. That year, the battle, the betrayals and all that, none of it had been mentioned. Hermione doubted it was even being thought of. This distrust was old and it was instinctual. It was the reason that Harry hadn't shaken Draco's hand all those years ago. She had spoken with Draco of that time and moment. He had told her with a small smile that he never really wanted to be the metaphorical king of the metaphorical playground, he didn't like spotlight and he didn't want to fight Potter. He just wanted to control him. A foolish ambition he had stated in hindsight. "You can't really ever control people" he had said whimsically, sipping his tea, eyes wandering. "Not unless they wish to be controlled and Potter never did want that". There had been no bitterness in his voice, it was just a statement, an observation.

"I understand that, but there are other healers. Specifically ones that are not the spawn of the devil" of course she noticed the way that he didn't say "or used to be a death eater". Of course she noticed it. It was as if it hadn't even occurred to him.

"Yes, but Draco is not only one of the best healers the wizarding world has to offer, he is also a skill wizard in defensive arts, positions and a strategist trained by Severus Snape since birth. He's brilliant and its not like you can deny that"

That shut him up for a moment.

Once again Harry muttered grouchy something into his coffee as he raised it to his lips. There were a lot of people he didn't like in the world, a lot, but Draco Malfoy was top of the list. He was manipulative and arrogant and angry and impatient and all round, just a bad person. The fact that he was a healer and literally saved people's lives for a living was besides the point. The fact that he was a powerful wizard that had proved a long time ago that he could hold his own if he believed in what he was fighting for was also beside the point. The fact that the last time they had seen each other Draco had been passed out in his bed, looking absolutely harmless, surrounded by his piles of inherited books was again beside the point. The point was that Draco equalled bad.

Had his mind not of been clouded by the irresistible urge to glare at something he probably would of noticed that for the majority of his time at Hogwarts Snape had equaled bad also which had proved not to be the case. Unfortunately it was, so all logic and thought processing had been disregard and politely asked to leave. As far as he was concerned Draco Malfoy was the world's greatest villain simply because he was Draco Malfoy. Not because he had made some terrible decisions, but because the world's greatest villain was what Harry Potter thought him to be.

In truth while the two of them were having this conversation Draco was curled up in his pyjamas in a large pile of blankets with only a few tuffs of blond hair peeking out from the bottom of the bed and one half of a peaceful expression exposed.

Four hours later he was still in the same slightly feral position, his breathing deep and methodical and someone was unlocking his door. Of course he wasn't aware of this so he simply remained peacefully sleeping, that is, until a shrill, happy voice rung out though the apartment and Draco launched himself into a sitting position only to fall back onto the bed so that he was lying on his back, flooded with aches and pains and exhaustion. The door closed and Draco once again began to lightly snore, his chest rising and falling. A small pattering of footsteps sounded in the living room and then the door to his bedroom was thrown open and something launched itself onto his chest. He was pretty sure he already knew what it was. With intense reluctance he opened one eye and low and behold two light brown eyes looked back at him with interest. He frowned as ginger hair that was so distinctly Weasley tickled his chin.

"G'morning Rosie" he muttered. The child beamed at him.

"Good morning Draco" The child decidedly named Rosie leant her cheeks down on her palms and looked giddily at him. "Mama said that you and uncle Harry have to look after me until Daddy comes homes from work"

With some incredible will power Draco managed to haul his aching body into a sitting position, turning the girl around in his lab as he did so that his each of his hands clasped the other over her small waist and he rested his chin fondly on her small shoulder.

"Did she now?" he mused. "I love how she consults me about these things" He muttered broodingly. It wasn't the first time that he been put on babysitting duty without his own consent and he was quite certain that it wasn't going to be the last. He had known the child since she was born, a good three years before. Heck, he had delivered the baby. The first time he had been allowed to look after the child was when both her parents were called away on urgent business when the child was a mere nine months old. He was sure that they both would of rathered give the child to Potter than him, but, really, who would give Potter a nine month old child when they could give it to a certified practitioner of medicine who had been actively trained on how to look after a babe? Weasley had still written him a long and threatening letter about just how well he should look after his daughter. If he remembered correctly it had mentioned something about no satanist rituals. He thought that was pretty fair.

Before that it had been very rocky between him and the notorious ginger, it had taken a lot of lobbing from Hermione to convince him that Draco was able to look after her when she was pregnant. After he had returned the child in her ninth month back to dotting, dotting father happy, smiling and in perfect health Ron had seemingly decided that, hey, if he could be trusted with his treasure then the guy couldn't be as bad as Harry claimed he was.

His back straightened at the thought.

"Wait, Harry? Uncle Harry? Uncle Harry is in my apartment?" He stared at Rose. Merlin, what was Hermione playing at? She was literally putting two people who had hated each other since they first caught sight of one another in a confined space with an innocent child smack dab in the middle. And she called herself a mother. He could of tutted at her.

Quickly he patted the girl off the bed and stood shakily. He wondered how much sleep he had gotten in the last week. Obviously not enough. He was dressed in exactly what he wanted to be dressed in and he sure as hell wasn't going to change for the sake of bloody Potter. He wasn't even going to comb his hair. He wore with pride one of his largest sweaters that sloped down one of his shoulders and pyjama pants that dragged on the floor.

He took Rose's hand led her into the living room and incidentally the kitchen and immediately he was assaulted by the look of Potter still dressed in work clothes and his darn Griffindor scarf making himself a cup of tea.

"Good lord Potter, who asked you to be here?" He sneered. He was only ever really this mean in front of Potter. Perhaps it was because he knew that he could take it. Merlin knew he had for a good five years. Then again it was a lot more satisfying with Potter. He didn't know why though. He figured that that was another mystery for another time.

Potter spun around at his words and for a moment he faltered at the sight of him. Well what was he expecting, this was his apartment, there would be no dressing up for him. The man who was, as far as he was concerned, invading his personal space turned quickly back around with, unless Draco was mistaken, a slightly redness on his cheeks. It brought him some sort of sick joy that Potter could of been coming down with a cold, at least thats what he thought it was. He really ought to just hand over his medical degree now, right?

"Yeah, well some of us get a free pass because we wake up before" Harry glanced critically at his watch "three in the afternoon" He could practically feel Draco's glare boring into the back of his head, but he didn't dare glare back. In all their years of schooling Draco's love for over sized sweaters was as notorious as the Weasley's orange hair, but he had always figured it was just something the Hufflepuffs made up to mock him. He could now say that it was totally and undeniably true. Merlin, what sort of person looks like that in an oversized sweater? He quickly poured the tea he had decided he deserved and wondered how quickly Ron would get here if he called and said that if he didn't get there soon his daughter was going to have to witness murder. He decided not to risk him actually coming, thinking that he was serious. Plus, surely he was capable of dealing with Draco's snarking for an hour.

He would be the higher man.

When he turned back around Rose and Malfoy were sitting on the sofa. He could just see Malfoy's feet up on the coffee table and his arm resting on the back of the couch. He saw orange curls sticking up where she was leaning into him and babbling about one thing or another. To her he must of looked to be paying careful attention to her and her three year old words, but Harry could see that he was actually paying careful attention to the book in his hand. Occasionally he would make grunts that vaguely represented affirmation.

Grudgingly he sat down with them, on the other side of the sofa and slipped of his shoes only to also put his feet up on the coffee table.

"Well, Malfoy, this is your apartment, what do you want to for the next hour so we don't have to kill each other?" He saw Malfoy slid his ice grey gaze over to him. He sighed heavily.

"I don't know, we could always order pizza and braid each other's hair" Malfoy looked back to his book.

"Thats unhelpful" Harry stated, with a voice that suggested that he didn't think Malfoy's IQ was particularly high.

"Go die in a hole, Potter" he bit back.

About forty five minutes later the door was swung open and Ron saw Draco and Rose sitting the sofa watching some strange moving pictures on Draco's muggle computer eating ice cream and occasionally laughing at the scream. Ron had once asked the white haired man why on earth he had a muggle computer and Draco had very civilly explained that he used it to keep in contact with his mother who was travelling in the muggle world. Or at least, that was what he claimed.

As soon as Ron appeared in the doorway after trudging up the stairs, his coat thrown over his arm the little girl squealed and ran towards him full pelt.

"Daddy!" she squeaked joyously. Ron leant down and scooped up his daughter, burying his nose in her hair.

"Rosie!" he answered holding her to his hip while she began to tell him about her day. His eyes clicked to Draco who was in his pyjamas. Draco waved to him in greeting, his grey eyes half open and his expression calm.

"Good evening Weasley, it seems that your abilities to arrive where you plan to be at the specified time still lacks discipline"

Ron didn't react to Draco's snarking as he once would have, he had slowly become to accept that it was simply the way that the man greeted people. It was when he was nice that you should start getting worried. In many ways it was sad. It was a defence mechanism, it was how he protected himself. Neither he nor Hermione or anyone really dared to ask Draco of his childhood, but they all suspected his father had something to do with it. The man must of figured that if he snarked first they couldn't reject him. Yes, it was sad.

"And how sad I am that I missed out brief moments in your welcoming company" he sneered in return, seeing Draco's immediate smirk. It was just a little game they played. "Where's Harry?" He shifted his daughter from one hip to another, trying to find a comfortable position as his eyes scoured the small apartment. Draco picked nonchalantly at his teeth and went back to the moving animated pictures.

"He forced us to lock him in the bedroom" Draco said the words very gravely as if it was a horrible commodity that Harry had brought upon himself. Rose giggled in his arms.

"God, you two need to sign a peace treaty or something, because this is really not going to work"

Draco grumbled something and flicked his wand, the door flying open to reveal Harry Potter standing darkly in the doorway, glaring murderously at the back of a scruffy almost white head. If a child hadn't been in the room, then perhaps he would of raised his fists to Malfoy.

"A treaty" he said darkly "is about as likely as Malfoy remaining quiet for more than five minutes"

Ron made a face at him.

"What he means is, a treaty is about as likely as Potter not over reacting about tiny things. Points for trying though" Rose giggled again and despite himself Ron grinned. On some level Ron wanted to go back to hating Draco, to return to that peaceful simplicity of the three of them despising Draco and Draco despising them back. But Draco was his daughter's god father and actually had a sense of humour he could appreciate and he kind of liked all that. Hatred was simple and easy, but it wasn't what he wanted.

"Well, at least I get points"

Ron sat pointedly down in one of the arm chairs next to the sofa, Rosie crawling back under Draco's arm so that she could watch continue watching the movie while also being within an arms distance of the ice cream. Harry grumbled something again and sat down heavily near Ron and specifically as far as possible away from Draco, who's attention was now fixed on the movie.

"This isn't going to work" he hissed. He could practically feel Draco rolling his eyes, but bloody hell, it wasn't! A lifetime of disagreement, not to mention the whole death eater thing. It was like trying to get a dog and a cat to work together.

He heard Ron sigh deeply as if he was dealing with a bunch of children.

"Bloody hell, Harry. You don't have to like him, you don't even have to work with him. Just don't kill him and stop the bloody squabbling, for the sake of all of us"

Harry glared at him and Ron shoved his hand into his pocket, he needed to make a call.

Notes:

alright so I realise that they don't actually have mobile phones in the wizarding world, but you know, fuck it. This is fanfiction, right?


End file.
